


A Roman God Tale

by toggledog



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Future Character Death, Gods, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, M/M, Reference to past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toggledog/pseuds/toggledog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A close to burnt out Derek Morgan is visited by the Cupid God of Love Past, Venus Goddess of Love Present and Mars God of War Future, in order to change his ways, to stop a terrible event from occurring. Inspired by the Dicken’s classic "A Christmas Carol".</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Roman God Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Morgan_Reid CM (livejournal), for a mythology challenge.

"So what happens is the geomagnetic field stimulates the brain’s temporal lobe and produces effects _similar_ to hauntings." Spencer had one leg on the floor, the other bent and hooked up on Derek’s desk, his body leaning forward, eyes glittering with emotion. "Did you know that they’ve done laboratory tests, in which they’ve stimulated the temporal lobe of a test subject, and the person had been _convinced_ that there was someone standing behind them?"  
Derek folded his arms, unsure as to how this conversation had started and at even more of a conundrum as to how to end it. From the desk across from him, Hotch shot him a sympathetic look.  
"They’ve easily replicated out-of-body experiences, merely by causing people to faint. People have reported meeting with friends, saying-"  
"You know, _fascinating_ as this is, Reid. I do have the Temple report to finish up." He gestured to his laptop.  
"Oh." The delicate face discoloured a little and the foot disappeared off the desk, the body straightening. "Sorry, man. I didn’t…"  
"No, you didn’t." He rubbed his temples, missing the hurt look cross the other’s face.  
"I’ll ah… I’ll go back to my desk."  
***  
"Hey! Hey! Hold the elevator!"  
Derek withheld the strong temptation to ‘accidentally’ depress the ‘door close’ button.  
"Thanks." Spencer briefly smiled at him as he stepped into the lift, the doors closing behind him. As the carriage smoothly moved downwards, Derek caught a subtle whiff of something astringent, yet somehow pleasant. The doors opened and two other men stepped in. Spencer moved back. For a moment, his hair brushed against Morgan’s face. There it was, that smell again.  
His shampoo, Morgan realised.  
"Sorry, man." The young man stepped away. Derek shook off the odd feeling of bereavement. The doors opened and both stepped out into the main FBI corridor.  
"So what are you doing now?" Spencer asked. His eyes looked surprisingly big and puppy-like.  
"Going home." Derek grunted. "I’ll see you tomorrow." He walked away, thankful that Spencer didn’t follow.  
Morgan liked the kid; sure but he was a constant puzzlement. Oftentimes, Derek would find himself inexplicably cornered, Spencer spurting off on some crazy tangent about a subject that either Morgan knew nothing about, or more often, didn’t care to know anything about.  
_And you let him do it because…?_  
Derek inwardly sighed, as he moved swiftly towards the first checkpoint to collect his weapon.  
As irritating as he sometimes was, he had always found the young man incredibly pretty. He suspected that this was why he could handle the long, one-sided conversations better than most. The pure pleasure in looking at the young man; the hand movements, the face lighting up with emotion, the tightness in his own crotch, as his mind drifted off.  
***  
Just a little whisky that night. Not that he ever overdid it. It had, however, been the seventh night in a row that he’d needed a tumbler before bed.  
But then, this had been a particularly horrific case.  
They were too late. When they found the missing boy, he’d already been assaulted and killed.  
And the one before that…? He reminded himself.  
He could barely consider it. The truth was, they were running through a string of bad luck. Missing victims turning up dead, killers escaping overseas before they could nail them, more bodies turning up with nary a chance that they were even close to finding the perp. For the first time in months, he was having nightmares again.  
The accusing eyes.  
How did the others cope? He wondered. He suspected Spencer’s genius would help- he was able to at least compartmentalise. The girls found comfort in the close friendship they’d developed. Hotch had Jack to go home to. Rossi could exorcise his demons in writing.  
And you, Derek? He asked himself.  
He had all of that. And none. He could compartmentalize, but not as well as he used to. He had close friendships but ultimately was more of a lone wolf.  
_When was the last time you shared a beer with Hotch? Called Garcia for a casual chinwag?_  
_Burnt out. Burnt out. Just like Gideon._  
He collapsed into an armchair, taking another deep swig of the glass, before settling it down lightly on the glass table before him.  
Maybe see what’s on TV, he thought, reaching across for the remote.  
The tiny hairs on the back of his neck suddenly pricked up.  
_Damn, now you’re getting all worked up. Geometric field. Just like Spencer said._  
Even so, he had to turn and look into the hallway behind him. It was ridiculous, he knew but he had to confirm that no figure was currently standing behind him. Watching him.  
Morgan slowly tilted his head around.  
A figure stood in the hallway behind him.  
The remote slammed back down onto the glass table with a loud clang.  
Derek squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. It was a man in a black three-piece suit. His silver hair was brushed back from his forehead, his stature erect, dignified.  
He started to move forward.  
Derek’s heart pounded, his breathing exerted, yet he found he couldn’t rise from the chair, his muscles locked.  
"Hello, Derek."  
The figure now stood within a metre of him.  
"G-Gardino?"  
Captain Gardino was his superior and mentor in his brief stint as a Chicago police officer. The likeness was uncanny. Derek wondered if perhaps he was dreaming. If so, it was one of the most vivid dreams he could remember. After all, as far as he knew, Captain Gardino was alive and well and living in Chicago still.  
"I can’t stay long. I’ve simply come as an informant."  
Derek found he could only make stuttering noises.  
_Good one, Derek, he abraded himself._  
"You’re burning out, son. Everyone can see it. You need to get that head straight on again. You keep going down that path; you’ll end up like me. That’s why you’re being sent three gods tonight, to get you back on the right trail."  
Finally, the younger man found his voice. "What the hell, man? What’s-?"  
"Turn from the path, son." His tone became sinister.  
The figure turned and started to walk out of the room.  
"Oh no… Gardino…" Derek whispered in horror, staring at the bloody, gory mess where the back of his head should have been. The figure reached the hall and disappeared.  
He instantly stood up, marched over to the light and switched it on, rubbing his eyes. Hallucination, right? Vivid dream?  
_The stress really is getting to me. I’m truly going insane, aren’t I? Spencer will have to visit me next to his mother in the-_  
"Why visit his mother when you can visit him now?"  
Derek jumped. The tiny figure currently seated on his lounge room couch was up against the wall within four seconds, Derek’s arm across his windpipe.  
"Who are you? How did you get inside my house?"  
The figure giggled. "Now now, Derek-"  
"How did you-?" He suddenly found himself being flung across the room, hitting the far wall opposite. Derek instantly got up, rushing the creature again.  
"Now, you just stop!"  
He found himself frozen mid-step, muscles locked, unable to even blink.  
"Better." The figure stood beside him. At full length, he reached up to his waist. His body and face was that of a youth, but his eyes were much older. He read eons of time in the darkened depths. As he watched, the figure brushed a curl of deep auburn hair away from his face. "Now, my name is Cupid. Tonight, I am the God of the Past."  
_Ok, what kind of joke is this? Is this Reid? Did he put you up to this?_  
Evidentially, the creature could read thoughts.  
"I can tell you, this is very much happening. You think that Roman Gods stop existing just because people stop believing in them? To be perfectly honest, I was thrilled to get this assignment. My last one involved organising star-crossed lovers from a tiny little hut in Antarctica and a village in Tanzania to meet up. Now if they had the internet, it would have made it a little easier…Oh…" He waved his hand and Derek suddenly found he could move again. Because he had been stopped mid-flight, he collapsed rather clumsily to the floor.  
"Sorry about that."  
I think I need another drink, Derek told himself. If this hallucination was going to continue, at least he could-  
"Oh no no no." The figure grabbed his arm in a surprising iron grip. "Time is short, my friend. We must take you to the past now."  
Derek dug his heels into the ground, centering himself. "My… past…?"  
"No his. He is the key to you not suffering the terrible fate of your future."  
"He?" He was well aware that he wasn’t being particularly lucid but his brain felt as though it had been fed through a harvester and then whisked.  
"Close your eyes. This may be a little disorientating."  
"What?"  
"Close your eyes!" A hand moved over his face. He found himself complying.  
"Open!"  
He stood in the centre of a football field, the grass withered and dull brown. Ahead, there appeared to be a commotion. Four kids were holding down a fifth one.  
"Four eyed little turd!"  
"Hey!" Derek yelled, rushing forward.  
"Little pansy."  
"Hey! Stop that!" He realised, to his revulsion, that the bullies had stripped most of the clothes off the little boy and were now pulling down his underwear. The other little boy was crying, his face a mess of blood, snot and tears.  
"Hey!" He said angrily, reaching to grab one of the children.  
His hand went straight through the boy's blue jumper.  
"What the hell?" He snatched his hand up.  
"They can’t see, hear or feel you." Cupid now stood next to him.  
He turned on the diminutive creature sharply. "What the hell is this?"  
"Let’s string him up!" The boys shouted behind him. "String him up! String him up!"  
"No! Please." The other boy pleaded.  
"It’s already happened. You can’t change it."  
"Why am I being shown this? What the hell is this?" He snarled.  
The fattest of the boys grabbed the belt strung on the ground and handed it to one of the others holding their victim against one of the goal posts.  
"Don’t you know who this is?" Cupid said quietly.  
"Hope it doesn’t get too cold tonight, you little shit!" One of the older boys hawked at the sobbing boy tied naked to the post.  
"You little shits!" Derek called after the boys who were now laughing as they ran back down the field. "I’m going to track down whoever you are! Yeah, that’s it! You’d better start running now."  
The little boy tied to the goal post continued to harshly sob behind him.  
"It’s ok, it’s ok kid." He walked to the back of the post and put his hands to the binds. As before, they went straight through.  
"Damn it!"  
"This isn’t about you rescuing him. It’s already happened."  
"Then what the hell is this?"  
"This is about the first spark."  
This… thing what ever it was, was really starting to piss him off.  
"What does that-?"  
"Ah… here she comes."  
A formidable looking woman marched across the football field. Something in her movement reminded him of Garcia. She got closer to the sobbing boy and her face softened. She smiled gently.  
The boy looked at her and closed his eyes, burying it in his shoulder as though shamed.  
"It’s ok, Spencer."  
"Spencer?!" Derek baulked. He felt a hot jolt of fury pulse through him.  
The woman tenderly untied the binds holding him to the fence and silently walked about the field, handing him his muddy clothes. The poor kid (Spencer, Derek amended, damn it!) continued to sob helplessly, as he redressed.  
"This happened to him?"  
The cupid nodded.  
"W-what’s that in your hand?" The kid asked, pulling his trousers back on.  
"Just today’s newspaper. Honey, those bullies-"  
"Can I… see it?" He shoved the muddied jumper over his head. Derek got the instinct impression that he was avoiding talking to her. She handed him the paper, which was folded in half, and turned over to the back cover. The young Spencer opened it and glanced down, studiously avoiding the woman’s eyes. Derek found his eyes drawn to the small photo in the upper right hand corner and found himself gasping out loud. The headline read ‘Interstate Tryouts Unearth Diamond in the Rough’. The photo was of a young, handsome black kid, smiling sunnily, the grotesqueness of his situation hidden in the depths of his dark eyes.  
Damn, it had been so long ago, he’d forgotten about that article.  
The echo of a gruff voice came back to him. "You can be good, Derek. Beyond good. You can be the best."  
I am the best, he told himself now. The best profiler.  
"Spencer doesn’t remember either." Cupid said quietly. "But all great romances must start somewhere."  
"Hang on a second!" Derek tried to put ‘great romance’ and ‘Spencer Reid’ in a sentence together and found he couldn’t. "What does that mean?"  
"I’m the Roman god of love, Derek. I am beholden to all the great romances. Have you ever wondered why you’ve hit your forties and haven’t settled down?"  
"Because I- what the hell does this have to do with you?"  
"This little boy." He pointed down to the blushing young Spencer Reid, clutching the newspaper in his hand and avoiding eye contact with the fretting lady before himself. "Doesn’t know it yet, but he’s just seen the love of his life."  
Derek shook his head. "This is a joke, right?"  
Cupid tilted his head to one side. "Close your eyes."  
"Huh?"  
The hand came before his face. He closed his eyes.  
And opened them to an empty apartment.  
Dream! He told himself. Vivid dream. He fumbled for the tumbler and whisky and poured himself another shot.  
What the hell was that about? Spencer was being bullied. He felt another shot of white hot anger rush through him. How dare they! Those little shits. I swear that if any of this has any truth to it, I’m going to find where those kids are now.  
"One died in an automobile accident-"  
Morgan dropped the whisky bottle. It fell over the glass table and poured down onto the carpet.  
_Oh no, not again._  
A woman stood idly against the wall leading to the foyer. She wore a simple green dress, her blonde hair falling down in ringlets around her face.  
"Let me guess-"  
"Venus, tonight I’m God of Present Love. I also happen to be Cupid’s mother."  
"Of course you are."  
Derek righted the bottle and poured himself another shot of whisky, as she continued.  
"One of the boys suicided by sleeping pills, one owns a second hand book store in Paris and the other is a plumber in Philadelphia."  
"Aha." Derek took a big gulp of the whisky. "And you’re going to show me the present, right? I’ve read this novel. And seen the film. Hell, I even saw the Bill Murray eighties version."  
She grabbed his hand. Her touch felt warm, gentle. He carefully put down the glass.  
"Then you shouldn’t be so surprised."  
"You’re going to tell me that Reid’s my true love, is that it? Because that’s-" He found himself unable to continue.  
What, Derek? Ridiculous? Impossible? Sure, the kid’s a bit of a kook with the whole genius thing but he’s also sweet, shy, subtly funny, complex…. Beautiful….  
"But Spencer isn’t…"  
"Love is complicated. Male. Female. No matter the gender, when true love occurs, the smart person knows not to question." Venus smiled at him.  
"Close your eyes." She whispered.  
This time, when Derek reopened them, he made no move to try and respond to what was happening, realising that he was only an observer.  
He stood by the window of what looked to be a middle to upper class restaurant. The tables were decked with pale table cloths, white candles lending the darkened room a romantic atmosphere.  
Derek turned his head minutely to the side and saw Reid, seated in chair against the window, laughing. He found himself unconsciously taking in a deep breath. Though he wore his customary vest, tie and shirt, (in fact, he same outfit he’d seen him in earlier), he looked different, some how. Perhaps it was the way the candlelight danced in his dark, amused eyes, and softened his already gentle features. Morgan found himself staring at his hair, the way it curled in ringlets below his ear, the candlelight casting an almost angelic glow around it.  
"No, it isn’t true," Spencer said.  
Derek was finally able to tear his eyes away from the vision before him to his partner.  
"Bill Ryerson?" He shrieked. Bill was a fellow FBI agent, who specialised in surveillance detail. Admittedly handsome in a dark haired, big jawed kind of a way, Derek had always found him to be utterly conceited.  
"What the hell is Reid doing?"  
"He’s out on a date," Venus informed him.  
"But with…. Bill Ryerson? The man’s an ass. He can do better than him."  
"And why’s that?"  
"Look at him!"  
Bill reached across the table and took Spencer’s hand. The young man looked down, shyly, a faint blush crossing his features. Derek felt the sudden urge to lean over and kiss him, overcome by how cute he found his shyness.  
"Are you ok?"  
Spencer nodded, smiled a little.  
"What do you say I get the bill?"  
"Ok." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.  
"I’ll get it."  
"No, I-"  
As he rose, Bill leant in and kissed the young man on the cheek. Derek suddenly felt hatred spew through him with the vitriol of when he’d seen the kids beating up on Spencer, as a child.  
Derek leant down so he was level with the young man’s face. He appeared nervous, twisting the napkin in his hands. The older man reached up and touched his hair, feeling his fingers go straight through.  
"Forget about this ass, Spence. You can do better." He reached down and watched his fingers go through Spencer’s hand. The young man instantly snatched it away.  
"He felt me!" He said to Venus. The pretty woman smiled. Derek leant down and tested it once more, gently touching his neck. He felt a monotonous beating, his eyes widening with wonder. Spencer’s heartbeat. The young man closed his eyes. Morgan closed his, for a moment captivated by the silent drumming under his fingers.  
"Ready to go?"  
Spencer opened his eyes. "Sure."  
He reached around the back of his chair for his coat.  
Morgan looked to Venus, who nodded. Both followed the couple out of the restaurant.  
Both were silent as they walked. Spencer appeared deep in thought. They rounded the corner to the dark alley to the side of the restaurant. Bill grabbed the young man and pulled him into the darkened shadows.  
"Bill! What the hell, man-?" Spencer said as the other slammed him against the wall.  
"Do you know what you do to me, Spencer?" The man moved back a bit but held his hands on either side of the young man’s face, leaning in intimidatingly. "Just looking at you, makes me feel so horny. I wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna make you scream with pleasure."  
"You son of a bitch! I’ll make you scream, alright!" Derek snapped to the dark haired man. "But you won’t enjoy it."  
"Come on, Bill, you’ve consumed precisely two bottles of wine tonight. I don’t think you realise what you’re saying," Spencer said.  
"That was just Dutch courage." He shrugged. "I remember the first time I saw you. You walked past me in the corridor after lunch break. I was meant to be monitoring a case involving a sting operation and all I could think about was what you would look lying naked on my bed spreading those long legs and looking at me with those beautiful big brown eyes while I stick it up your ass and fuck you senseless. I loused up the damn case that day."  
Morgan turned to Venus. "There’s no way that I can kick this man’s ass? Because that would be very satisfying."  
The god put a comforting arm on his shoulder.  
"If this is meant to be… erotically stimulating you’re really off the mark." Derek heard the fear in Reid’s voice and redoubled his desire to pound this idiots face in.  
"Let’s go back to my house." Bill leant in and kissed him softly on the lips while Morgan let out a curse.  
"I’m tired," Spencer said.  
Bill laughed. "Now, I know you’re lying. I’m betting by tomorrow, I’ll be the exhausted one. I bet you fuck real nice."  
"The answer is no," he said, definitively.  
The man stared at him a second longer, the tension almost unbearable, then stepped back. Derek let out his breath.  
"You know, for a genius, you can be pretty stupid." Bill started to stalk back and forth, like a caged tiger. "He doesn’t even like you! Oh come on, I see the way you follow him around like a lost puppy dog. It’s pathetic."  
"This isn’t about Morgan," Spencer said.  
Derek perked up, his heart hammering. He turned wide-eyed to Venus, who broke into a sly smile.  
"It’s about you. I may be stupid when it comes to topics that aren’t cerebral, as you imply, but I’m not that stupid. The reason why I don’t want to go back to your house is because-"  
"Because he’s an ass, Spencer." Derek said.  
"Because you’re an ass."  
Both Derek and Bill blinked. "I paid for you dinner tonight-"  
"I didn’t ask you-"  
"You’re nothing but a pretty little cocktease!" Bill shouted.  
Derek caught Spencer’s flinch at the word, the hurt in his eyes.  
He’s been called that before, he realised, a sickened feeling rising in his throat.  
"Why did I even bother? What a waste of a night," Bill muttered.  
"Tomorrow, that guys getting an ass whopping," Morgan turned to Venus. Her attention was solely focused on Reid, who still leant against the wall, a dazed expression on his face.  
No, it’s a different tie than the one he wore at work today, Morgan realised. This one was red, brought out the colour of his eyes more. He thought about him carefully picking out the outfit for the night, not realising that his date to be would be nothing more than a sleaze, out to get what he could.  
Forget him. Derek reached forward and put his hand to Spencer’s cheek, feeling it go straight through. You’re worth better.  
Spencer took out his mobile and started searching through the address book. He stopped at Morgan’s number.  
"Call me," he pleaded.  
Spencer stared at it a moment, then flicked his phone shut.  
"We should go." Venus said, quietly.  
Morgan arrived back in his lounge room unsurprised to find himself alone. He threw himself up and stomped over to the front of the television, where his mobile lay, attached to the charger.  
He had to call Spencer; had to hear the soft voice, to confirm that he was alright.  
"Not yet," the voice was deep, sensuous.  
"Why not?" He took the phone off the charger.  
"Because you can’t!"  
The cell flew out of Morgan’s hands and crashed into the wall opposite.  
"Son of a bitch!" He turned to the figure behind him. The dark haired, dark eyed man cut an empowering figure. He was so tall, his head almost touched the ceiling, his legs like tree trunks, arms and chest like rock slabs.  
"I am Mars, God of-"  
"War." He felt a sudden tightness in his chest. "And the future, right?"  
The man folded his arms over his massive chest. "Not all war is between nations. Wouldn’t you call what you do, day by day, a war against violence and oppression? Against the strong overcoming the weak?"  
"Why me?" Derek said quietly. "Surely there are more pressing priorities. The Sudan. Iraq. Afghanistan."  
The other man sighed, suddenly looking very human. "In the past, when people believed, I had control over such things. But now… there’s nothing I can do."  
"I believe in you!"  
The man’s granite mouth moved up into a smirk. "One person isn’t enough, I’m afraid."  
"So, you’re going to show me my future."  
"If you continue on the track you’re on, then you will burn out within six months. But it isn’t your future I want to show you."  
_Oh no… not…_  
"What happens to him?"  
"You have to see for yourself."  
Derek hesitated.  
_No, maybe it’s not so bad. After all, you don’t know if this is truly real, do you? Maybe you’ve truly gone insane._  
He gripped the hard muscles on the massive arm and closed his eyes.  
A room. Police tape on the door. Whispers.  
"He got an FBI agent this time. A profiler. Yes, same as the others."  
A bloodied naked body lying on the bed, arms and legs spread-eagled and his face-  
_Dear god his face!_  
Morgan turned swiftly to Mars.  
"Get me out of here!"  
Hotch walked in, the usually stern man unable to withhold an expression of pure horror.  
"Seven months from now, the team will be still looking for a replacement for you," Mars spoke in an emotionless tone. "They work on the case of the serial killer dubbed the ‘Calling Card Killer’. Preference for young blond men. Spencer’s so upset about you leaving that he doesn’t do his job properly. The others tell him to take a break. He refuses. He gets careless. This is the result." Derek’s eyes narrowed down onto litter of aces by Spencer’s lax right foot.  
"Damn it." Hotch groaned.  
"They never find the killer."  
"Let me out of here, please!"  
Mars grabbed his hand. He closed his eyes.  
When he returned to the lounge room, he unceremoniously threw up all over his carpet.  
"How can I stop that from happening? I’ll do anything!"  
"I’m a god of war, not peace. So, I tell you to continue to ignore him, and your own feelings, hidden as they are."  
Morgan nodded, understanding.  
The other returned the affirmative gesture, and promptly disappeared. Wasting no time, Derek rushed to the kitchen, slamming his ankle painfully on the skirting board. He tore the handle off the phone and dialled in Spencer’s landline.  
_Pick up, pick up, pick up._  
_Damn, what’s the mobile? That bastard Mars smashed my cell._  
"Morgan?"  
"Hey, this may sound strange. But I need to see you right now."  
There was a brief pause. "What’s this about? I’m very tired."  
"I can be there in fifteen minutes."  
"Can’t whatever this is wait until tomorrow?"  
"No, I need to see you right now."  
Another pause. "You’re freaking me out man. Are you ok?"  
"I will be if I can see you."  
"Ok, just… are you ok to drive?"  
"I’ll be fine."  
He broke about every traffic rule on the trip across town, his mind going through what he was going to say to the surely soon to be baffled genius.  
"These Roman gods tonight told me that we are basically soul mates and if we don’t get it right, then you’ll be viciously murdered by a serial killer."  
_Perhaps not._  
Mad, Derek. Mad. He laughed a little to himself.  
He swung the vehicle into the parking lot and pulled into the space closest to the apartment block. Frustration at being pinned to his seat had him realise that he’d merely forgotten to take off his seatbelt. He threw it off and climbed out of the car, in his haste for getting to lock it.  
_Ok, apartment number… apartment number… fifteen_.  
He stepped up and rang the buzzer.  
"It’s me."  
The door clicked open. Derek took the stairs in lightning speed and crossed the corridor to the apartment. He raised his hand to knock when the door opened.  
Spencer’s face. Unmutilated. He felt like dropping to his knees with relief. Delicate nose. Check. Full lips. Check. Lustrous brown eyes. Check.  
I really am in love with him, he thought.  
"What’s wrong?" He opened the door wider. "Why are you looking at me like that? You’re totally freaking me out."  
Derek walked in and zeroed into the leather armchair facing the television, collapsing in it. Damned if he didn’t feel like crying.  
"Morgan…" He took the chair opposite.  
"I’ve had… a rough night… "  
Spencer said nothing, simply continued to stare at him.  
"I don’t even know where to begin."  
Ok, maybe he didn’t have to know the full truth.  
"Did you have a date with Bill Ryerson tonight?"  
A scowl instantly appeared on the calm face. "That is none of your business."  
"The guys a sleaze of the lowest order."  
Spencer said nothing, simply folded his arms.  
_Ok, defensive._  
"I’m sorry. I just… I head you were going out with him and it made me…"  
Damn, why did it have to be so hard?  
"I really want to kick his ass."  
"Is this why you came over here? To tell me you want to kick Bill Ryerson’s ass?"  
"Well, no.. not exactly. I just…I was thinking tonight-"  
"That hurt your head?" Spencer said, grinning.  
"I haven’t been doing so well the past few weeks. Feel like I’m losing it a little, actually." It felt awkward to be talking so intimately.  
"I know. We all see it. Look, after Henkel–"  
"Spencer I’m in love with you." He said quickly.  
The young man’s eyes grew wider. "What did you just say?"  
"Man, that feels good! Like a weight’s been lifted off me!"  
"You’re not… joking?"  
He grinned, crept off the armchair and took the seat next to the young doctor, reaching across to touch his cheek gently. "I think I’ve been rather selfish lately." He curled his thumb down to the other’s lips. Spencer turned to face him, his pupils dilated, eyes dreamy. Bedroom eyes, Derek realised, feeling his crotch tingle and respond. "God you’re beautiful. Inside and out." A part of him couldn’t believe those words had just come out of his mouth.  
"And you’re a toad." Spencer said, smirking.  
"Croak, croak." Derek moved his hand down the jaw line to the pulse. He closed his eyes, then felt something soft touch his lips. Spencer pulled back, an unsure expression glancing across his face. The older man grabbed him by the hair and pulled him forward once more. His mouth tasted of red wine and coffee. The pulse under his finger was now hammering. He felt Spencer’s hand go around to scrape at his shaved head, the other unbuckling his belt.  
"Woh! Slow down, tiger."  
Reid pulled back, eyes wide and trusting.  
"I just, I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to, ok?"  
"It’s ok, I want to."  
"For the rest of my life, I want to pay homage to your beautiful body." He leant forward and kissed his neck. Spencer moaned. "But to be honest, tonight I’m… well I’m exhausted."  
Three gods and a former police captain visiting will do that to you, he thought to himself.  
"What are you saying, exactly?" There was an absurd hope in his expression.  
"I’m saying I don’t want this to be a one off thing. I want this to be a proper, monogamous relationship."  
"This is happening so fast." Spencer reached up and touched his cheek. "I’ve wanted this for so long. I just didn’t think that you… would."  
"More than anything, Spence."  
"What about the others?"  
Derek shrugged. "We’ll deal with that when we need to."  
Spencer still looked stunned. Derek leant forward and kissed him on the lips.  
"Can I… sleep with you tonight?"  
A slight smile touched the pretty face. "I’d love that." He was shaking slightly.  
Both walked to the bedroom.  
"It’s ok." He touched the other’s hand, feeling the tremors.  
"I’m nervous."  
"Do you want to…? What do you want?"  
Spencer gulped. "What do you want?"  
"Lie down on the bed." He ordered.  
The other lay down, spreading his legs a little. Derek thought about the callous remarks of the sleaze earlier in the night and bit down on the white-hot rage cursing through his body.  
_The first thing I’m going to do when I get into the office tomorrow is find Bill Bryerson and pop him one. I don’t care about the consequences._  
Derek carefully crept on his hands and knees until he was face to face with his lover to be.  
"You look like a tiger." Spencer’s voice shook.  
"Growl." He clawed at the air a few inches from the other’s face.  
The young man put his arms around his neck and pulled him to his mouth. Morgan carefully lay down until his entire body lay on top of the younger man. Spencer groaned, pushing up hard into his groin.  
Derek pulled back a little. "Ah… what do we have here?" He grinned and reached down, gripping the swollen appendage through his trousers. "What do you want, baby?"  
The young doctor laughed. "Baby?"  
"Sweetum." Derek kissed his mouth. "My little plum blossom." He kissed his chin. "My little insy winsy-"  
Spencer put a finger to his mouth. Morgan kissed it, then took out his tongue and swiped it across, tasting the salty sweat. "I’m not Garcia, here Derek. In case you haven’t noticed."  
Derek unzipped his trousers and placed his hand inside, gripping the hardness within.  
"I can definitely feel that." He started to stroke his hand up and down, as Spencer groaned, nipping along Derek’s jaw, hands unfastening Derek’s own jeans.  
"I thought you were tired." His young lover moaned.  
"I think I can manage an extra burst of energy for this." He shifted his weight to give his lover better access to his intended target, one hand continuing to stroke Spencer in a way that had him gasping and moaning, the other reaching around to knead the flesh of his buttocks.  
Enough talk, he thought, devouring his young lover’s mouth once more, the hesitant strokes to his throbbing organ shooting desire all through his body. He released the mouth to slide a tongue across to his ear, sucking and biting on the lobe, the soft strands of Spencer’s hair gently brushing across his face.  
_Fruity… no… citrus…_  
Spencer groaned. "Derek…"  
Morgan stroked faster, licked down his ear to his neck and bit down hard.  
"I’m almost…I’m…"  
That did it, for Derek.  
"I’m coming." He groaned, then bit down hard on his lover’s neck as intense pleasure washed over his body. A moment later, Spencer gave a breathy whimper, his own organ throbbing in Derek’s hand. He collapsed on top of his lover as both caught their breath, nuzzling his face against Spencer’s neck and hair.  
"Derek can you…you’re heavy." Spencer finally said.  
"Oh… sorry." He moved off and lay alongside, hand possessively across the other’s stomach. Spencer turned and kissed down his neck.  
"That was…please sir, I want some more." He imitated Olivier.  
"More! You want more!" Derek mock roared, then grinned and slipped his hands into Spencer’s hair. "And you’ll get it."  
***  
Spencer gently detached the arm from its iron grip around his waist and gently pulled the covers down, slipping out of the bed. He padded barefoot down the hall and switched on the light. A silver-haired man sat in his armchair.  
"So, it did work," he said quietly.  
"You really are a genius, you know. I never thought you could pull it off. All the research it would have taken, merely just to learn how to contact me. And then with the old gods…"  
The young doctor walked further into the lounge room and stood before the man, biting his lip. He banished his thoughts about the recurring dream. Derek Morgan with the gun in his mouth, the feeling of intense despair.  
"This is about Morgan. It’s only ever been about him. Just… tell me he’ll be alright. His future. That he no longer…."  
"What? Suicides?"  
Spencer gulps.  
The man regarded him intently. "You don’t know why he suicides, do you?"  
"It doesn’t matter, as long as it will no longer happen. Him coming here. Just because I have feelings for him… you didn’t need to…I just wanted you to keep him safe, change the future."  
"And it is changed. For both of your futures to change, he had to come to you, recognise you as his soul mate. Do you understand?"  
Spencer blinked. Metaphysics he could understand. The mysteries of the human heart were far more complicated. But he was willing to try, for Derek’s sake.  
"I…I think so."  
"Good. Now go back to bed. You’ve both got a long day in front of you tomorrow." Gardino winked.  
Spencer walked back down the hall and climbed back into the bed. Instantly, the sleeping Derek scooted over and nuzzled his face against Spencer’s hair, his arm creeping around his waist. Spencer closed his eyes, feeling content and warm.  
"Derek?"  
"Mm…"  
"Everything will be ok now, you’ll see."  
The arm gripped him tighter. He felt warm lips on his neck.  
"No, it won’t be ok. It will be brilliant, now. Superb. Wonderful. Come on, pretty boy. I’m sure you can come up with better adjectives than me."  
Spencer smiled. He could. And all of them fit very well.

Finis.


End file.
